However difficult it is to read the signs coming out of Iran conclusions can be drawn. The most obvious, writes Abdel-Moneim Said*, is that the Iranian regime cannot resist change indefinitely It is not easy to assess events in Iran since the announcement of presidential election results precipitated massive demonstrations. There is the official Iranian view, of course, denouncing the whole affair as a Western-US-Zionist conspiracy that seeks to undermine the regime because it stands up to the West and champions resistance, but it is hardly credible, certainly not when we consider that the central players in the drama all come from the heart of the Iranian establishment. They are creations of the regime, which vets all candidates standing in presidential elections and screens out those of which it disapproves. There is another view, equally predictable, that holds it is part and parcel of all revolutionary regimes to experience moments of rift between hardliners and moderates, reformists and conservatives. Such labels have been applied to Leninists versus Trotskyites and Trotskyites versus Stalinists in the Soviet Union, to the Mao Tse-Tung and the Chou En-lai camps in China. Even in the French and American revolutions there were tugs-of-war between radicals, unyielding in their determination to implement their ideals, and moderates, willing to temper dogma with pragmatism. The problem with Iran is that the labels, hardliner and moderate, are more a matter of media convenience than a reflection of the country's domestic situation. Whatever objections have been voiced against some of Mahmoud Ahmadinejad's statements and positions hardly constitute a deep political divide. In the absence of fundamental differences over the structure of the regime and its foreign and domestic policy orientations it is precipitous to characterise what criticisms have been raised as somehow representing a rallying call for confrontation. Such differences might erode the foundations of secular regimes but in theocracies they tend to fall on the dividing line between faith and heresy. There is a third view, just as conventional as the first two, which subscribes to the argument that revolutionary regimes inevitably collapse. The cracks do not appear all at the same time: rather, a series of convulsions shakes the regime as it staggers towards ultimate bankruptcy. Those who take this position on Iran view recent events as an explosion, though not necessarily the last, of the regime's internal contradictions. No sooner do revolutions overturn the old order than they evolve into a powerful preserver of the new status quo. In the Iranian case, in particular, the regime established by Khomeini brought into being a system of government founded upon a series of compacts and institutions that are so tightly controlled and supervised as to effectively obviate any possibility of change from within. Perhaps the Khatami presidency offers the clearest testimony, first to the weakness of the presidency compared to the supreme guide and, second, to the inability of reform to find a foothold in a country with Iran's institutional foundations. The single answer to reform in Iran is more intransigent conservatism and, if need be, recourse to violence, even if it is directed against another group from within the establishment. Ahmadinejad's flexing of his revolutionary and military muscle against Mir-Hussein Mousavi, during the elections and after, is the continuation of processes that have occurred before. Qotb- Zadeh, Beni Sadr and others all imagined there might be a possibility for reform from within. The lesson to be drawn, here, is that the political order resulting from the Iranian revolution is not able to accommodate gradual change brought about by either internal or external influences. Rather, if change does occur at some major historical juncture, the entire order will come tumbling down. Given that conventional theories all fall short of explaining current events in Iran there is little one can do beyond wait and see. Every historical case has specific properties that defy generalisation, and there will always be those who believe in the possibility of escaping the general laws of history. One thing, though, is certain: no political order can defer judgement on its competence -- i.e. its ability to manage its resources and effectively address the needs of the nation and its people -- forever. This is not a question of how satisfied the poor are or how angry the rich. Yet in an enormously oil-rich state such as Iran, three decades after the revolution the question of competency has become something of a taboo. The state is now so bureaucratically complex and cumbersome that it can compete with all known examples of socialist bureaucracy, albeit in Islamic garb. Nor can any political regime, however tyrannical and no matter how sore people's hands grow from applauding freedom fighters and holy warriors, ultimately escape the winds of change blowing from inside and outside. Here I refer mainly to demographic changes, the emergence of new generations that know little about the past so roundly cursed by their fathers but quite a bit about the present, in which some of those fathers are corrupt and others impotent. These new generations are strongly influenced by changes sweeping in from abroad, notably the technological revolutions, which have given them another, and not necessarily pleasant, perspective on the life they are living and some ability, at least, to transcend that reality. If there was one salient feature of the recent outburst in Iran it is that the youth factor extended well beyond Mousavi's electoral chances to the more crucial question of Iran's place in the world. Young Iranians were posing this question while being targeted by teargas: strangely, Arab analysts, who normally dwell at length on the issue with respect to their own and other Arab countries, chose to totally ignore it when it came to Iran. Finally, those who think that the Iranian experience, whether it be of bureaucratic efficacy, the role of emerging generations, the impact of modern technology or even the affect of the Obama phenomenon on the world scene, has no relevance outside Iran are missing the point. Such questions touch all of us, regardless of whether we are Arab or non-Arab. Of course, universalising them does not exempt us from closer scrutiny of Iran. It is an integral part of the regional equation; indeed, as a revolutionary power it is a dangerous player in the regional balance of power and even more dangerous if it has imperialist ambitions. Iran will be a curse if it is powerful, exporting its ideology and imbuing politics with religion, and an even bigger curse if it weakens and disintegrates. Those who have not heeded the lesson from Iraq will not balk at creating another lesson that they will also refuse to heed. Iran is a country with a venerable history. It is steeped in civilisation, and perfectly capable of determining on its own how, and when, it wants to change. But the Iranian regime cannot remain in its current condition, a collection of figures and compositions that remind one of nothing more than the intricate patterning of a Persian carpet. So complex is the design that anyone who says he is an expert on Iran is fooling himself and others. If I were an Arab leader I would avoid either optimism or pessimism. I would keep my lines of communication open with all forces and groups, whether in power or in opposition or in between, whether in the universities or in the bazaar. I would also keep tabs around the clock on the behaviour of the Iranian government and its representatives inside Iran and at international forums, because governments must be judged more on the basis of their deeds than their words. Which brings me to one last question: How many research centres on Iran are there in the Arab world? I am not speaking about the study of Persian and Iranian arts and literature, but rather about the contemporary Iranian state and society. * The writer is director of Al-Ahram Centre for Political and Strategic Studies.
